After Wight, one of the prisoners who attempted to escape from the jail, had been rearrested, it occurred to the officers to search his person in order to ascertain, if possible, the origin of the difficulty which had resulted in the death of one of the parties thereto. In one of his pockets was found a package of letters, which scrutiny disclosed to have been written by Griswold. These letters were perfectly unintelligible to the ordinary reader, being traced in cipher, probably invented by Griswold himself. To pick them out was, however, a comparatively easy matter to the detectives, as they had already discovered the key to the cipher. One of the letters, developing the plot for escape, ran as follows:
“Dear Jennie—The horses must not be more than two blocks away; we will come out of the front door, and you or Alex——ought to be on the opposite side of the street, so that when we went out you could walk by where the horses were, and then there could be no mistake. We only want the horses now to go to the mountains. I want Alex to come and get them. Then you or him see Henry and have other ones got. I do not know whether we will have Spencers or Winchesters; we will have one or the other, but we may not get cartridges. Have Alex get 5 hundred rounds of each, so we can take which ever we want; also twenty-five rounds of 36, and the same of 44. Those we don’t want he can take back. Have plenty of cakes (provisions). Take two sacks, a part full of eatables; they must be more than half full, so that we can lay them across the saddles, one sack on each horse. The principal things are bread; hard tack if you can get it; no more than seven or eight pounds of bacon; lots of salt and pepper, and lots of coffee, ground. Mind you, lots of that is all that has kept me alive. You had better have a quart of whiskey on each saddle, for we are nothing but skin and bones, and very weak. We can not ride far without stimulants. We will stay near Denver until we get strength; we are getting worse here every day, and I assure you I will not leave here until I square accounts with Smith.
“But we must have plenty of ammunition, for it makes no difference whether we fight in the streets or anywhere else. I will never be taken, and if I should have the good fortune to get killed, you will find the address of those you want, with full directions. It will be in the waist bands of my pants that I have on. If I am not killed I will write and have some money sent to you. The ‘old man’ can go for wood and bring provisions. I don’t expect you to buy anything, but tell Alex to get them. Better get some chewing tobacco. I want one bottle of morphine, for riding will hurt me. I wear napkins. I can almost span my arm above my elbow. I am the poorest I ever was but I must or die. I have some time thought you was afraid of me if I should get away. I have never showed myself a brute yet. I don’t think I will begin now. I will send for you as soon as I can. I will send you money very soon, if I go to h—ll for it. Remember that I think everything will be furnished, if I once get out. They are all scared about it. We will go some time between 12 and 3—I think about 2 o’clock. Let Alex be on the opposite side and walk near the horses, but not come near us; he must follow so to get the horses. If you are bothered or insulted, we know I will make their blood run a rain of terror or burn their city until they stop. I tell you, if they cross me I will have their hearts, but to you I will be as I always have been, your husband; will stake my life for you in any way it may be necessary. If I am killed, remember my waist band. Be careful of the key I gave you. I will risk my life for it. They can’t read. Good-by.
“L. P. G.”
This letter was not fully deciphered until the body had been buried. It was afterwards disinterred by W. F. Smith, the county jailer, in order to ascertain whether it had been buried with any valuable papers, as the above would indicate. He searched the clothing thoroughly, but found only two scraps of paper—one two leaves from Harper’s magazine containing the poem “Hannah Jane,” and the other a piece of paper with a few words in cipher. On the former was the following significant problem—significant in the light of recent events. Griswold was probably trying to study it out. It was as follows: “A problem: A prisoner anxious to escape, and a dead man awaiting burial; how were these two things to be exchanged so that the living man might pass out without going to the grave?”
So ended, with his own life, the bloody work which “Old Griswold” had begun. His wife, or “woman,” is still living in or near Denver. Wight, his accomplice, was the man who had assisted Witherill in the murder of Wall, the herder on Dry creek, an account of which crime is elsewhere in this volume related.
Dan Diamond, the negro, was one of the worst “coons” that ever came to Denver. He, as well as Wight, is probably also at Cañon. He never stays out more than a few months, as he is always stealing when out. But he escaped on the day of the fracas. The officers heard of him a few days afterwards at a ranch twenty-four miles down the Platte, and followed him down there. They were told that he was in the second story of a house there. Cook went with a posse after him and stationed men outside with guns pointing at every window, and went up to where he was himself, with drawn revolver. They expected him to jump out and be killed. But he didn’t. He was a downright disappointment. Cook found him lying flat on his face on a bed, crying: “Oh, Missah Offisah, I dun gib up; don kill me now; I’se yer man. I go right along wid you.” And he did go.
As for Hennessee, the gambler, who came to Davis’ rescue, he was pardoned out immediately and voted a resolution of thanks.
Till Davis was but slightly hurt, after all. He thought he had been shot, but wasn’t. The wound caused by the stone stunned him and the blood flowed freely for a while, but he soon recovered and is supposed to be still living.
Patrick, the man who went with Griswold to arrest O’Neal, and who was supposed to have been equally responsible for his death, has never, since the day after the murder, been seen in Colorado. It was believed that he went to Kansas, but no satisfactory clue being obtained, he was not searched for in that state.